


Don't Walk in the Dark Alone

by SoloShadowling



Series: Vampire!Tinsley [2]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: (But its not descriptive), Biting, Blood, M/M, Passing Out, Pre-Slash, This sat in my drafts for almost a month so I needed to post it, Vampire!Tinsley, Vampires, alley, kinda short, turning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22668529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoloShadowling/pseuds/SoloShadowling
Summary: C.C. Tinsley was once a human detective, amazing at his job.(Take note of 'was.')Now, he's a vampire and he has no idea if he'd be able to even work again.Luckily, he has the serial killer Ricky Goldsworth to help him figure things out (and Tinsley may just enjoy the time close to him a little too much).But even though things may seem fine now, you never know what lays in the dark, waiting...
Relationships: Ricky Goldsworth & C.C. Tinsley, Ricky Goldsworth/C. C. Tinsley
Series: Vampire!Tinsley [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658254
Comments: 4
Kudos: 56





	Don't Walk in the Dark Alone

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to my other vampire!Tinsley fic and honestly, shout out to @Avicia_L. I wasn't sure if I should write more of the AU but they basically encouraged me to. 
> 
> As a disclaimer: I don't know everything about vampire lore so if there are inaccuracies or mistakes, let me know!
> 
> {btw, as a funny note, I got a fortune cookie the other day that said 'Be cautious walking alone in the dark' and I just thought it was kinda funny/scary}

That night was forever burned into the detective's mind.

He wan't even following a lead. It was just a normal night, walking home from the office. The streets reeked of exhaust, the alleys of urine and mold. Tinsley kept his head down, tugging the fedora lower. The sidewalks weren't crowded, just a few late night workers, drunkards stumbling out of the bar, and your not-so-friendly neighborhood sketches

But that's Los Angeles for you.

Like any other city, it was dirty and dangerous; and this became especially true at night.

This particular night had a bit of a biting chill, seeping through the fabric of the detective's trench coat. His breath came out in pale white puffs. 

Tinsley kept a watchful eye for a certain ~~hot~~ serial killer that liked to follow him from the office. Though, he was sure the killer knew were he lived by now; and that was not a comforting thought. 

It should be noted here that Tinsley wasn't the most observant of his surrounds unless he was looking for something specific. The phrase 'dumbest smart person' worked well to describe him. That's why he didn't realized he stood in front of one of the city's most dangerous alleys. 

People around the office had dubbed it 'Hell's Alley.' It was pitch black at night, with no nearby streetlights to illuminate it. Everyone tried to avoid it; even criminals. Rumor had it that a demonic entity resided deep inside. Anyone brave enough to walk inside often either died or ended up in the psych ward. Hell, even Ricky was afraid of it.

Another reason for the nickname was that the alley hosted the location of the most unsolved crimes. From murder, to kidnapping, to theft, to drug deals, the shadows would hide any sort of criminal activity until the sun rose. Although, even in the sunlight, the alley was dim and a lot of evidence could be overlooked. Most of the detectives that Tinsley knew would take one glance at the location of the crime and slap that file right on top of the unsolved files pile. It pissed him off that they wouldn't even look into it a bit, to at the very least humor whoever the crime mattered to. 

When voicing this opinion nights ago, during after hours at the office, to Ricky, the believer had responded to his skepticism with: "Well that's because you're too dumb to believe in the obviously supernatural."

Tinsley had responded by shoving him out the window, onto the fire escape, and locking the window. The detective smiled distantly whenever the memory of Ricky's unhappy pout came up.

But let's not digress anymore. 

A high pitched cry sounded from the depths of the alley, calling Tinsley's attention. He stopped in front of the looming darkness, squinting. The cry had been silenced, leaving him wondering. 

The curious, investigative part of his mind urged him to walk inside, to investigate the strange noise; the more rational part told him to move away, start running if he must, just get away from the alley. But he soon made up his mind.

"Help... me..." A tiny sound, much like a child, came from the alley. The detective rushed into the darkness, a hand over the firearm on his hip. 

The smell of mildew and rotting garbage was suffocating, almost making Tinsley gag. He kept a brisk pace, searching for whoever had cried for help. 

"Hello? Is someone here?" Nothing made a sound.

"I'm here to help," he said, "I'm a detective." 

A scraping of trash and a muted shuffle of steps sounded to his right. He turned, tentatively reaching out to the source. "Hey, are you okay?"

The moments following happened in a flash:

Something cold and firm latched onto his neck, pinning him against the grimy alley wall. Tinsley let out a pained grunt upon impact, a dull throb beginning to form at the back of his head. He squinted through the darkness at his attacker. The grip on his throat tightened, quickly choking the man of fresh air. A wet hiss came from the right, extremely close to his ear. Chapped lips breathed hot, almost and inch below his ear. Two pinpoints of pressure started on his neck, slowly pressing more and more until he realized what he was feeling.

_The person was biting him._

Tinsley felt a new surge of strength (maybe adrenaline from fear of what might come next). His hands clutched and pulled at the cold hand, finding the grip was like a vice. Fatigue slowly crawled through his body, turning his limbs numb and limp. It not dissimilar to the sensation of losing oxygen. Before he realized it, black spots danced in his vision, turning everything black and cold.

* * *

What seemed like hours later (which would in fact be correct), Tinsley regained consciousness bit by bit. The sun was barely over the horizon, a few stands of dawn peeking through. Frankly, it felt like he'd been run over by a 68 ton semi-truck. Limbs like lead, he heaved himself up, then pitching sideways (nearly) into the wall. 

It seemed too bright.

Everything was too bright, too loud.

It smelled, overbearingly, like a mix of piss, sweat, and mold. 

His hands grasped at the dirty concrete, curling into fists as he attempted to push himself up again, this time successfully. The detective fell onto the wall, barely able to keep himself standing. He stumbled out of the alley like a drunk; swaying and clutching any solid, non-human object as he head home, back to his apartment. 

There was a new _urge_ plaguing his mind.

It craved something warm and running, something _alive_. The life force of any and all living being in proximity. The occasional citizen moved past him, quickly as to not interact with the concerning man. If he'd been in the right mindset, he'd feel offended.

But at the moment, he praised each person who had enough sense to stay away.

Well, there was one guy. Some kind fool had come up to him asking if he was okay. If Tinsley thought the warm bodies walking past were tempting, he hadn't experienced the worst of it yet. The kind man placed a hand on Tinsley's back sending the urge into a frenzy. 

His body moved on its own, lashing out and snatching the man's arm. The warm pulse, it was so tempting... And the man had practically offered himself. The detective's mouth salivated, opening slightly, ready to take a bite. The man struggle in his grip, but he only tightened it, claw-like nailed digging into soft flesh, drawing blood.

 _Blood_.

That's what it was... So tempting! The coppery smell flooding his nose, drawing him closer to it.

And then- he stopped.

Just what, in the _ever-loving-hell_ , was he _doing_?

Tinsley pushed the man away, him yelping. The detective moved quickly (well as quickly as a weak, stumbling man could) down the sidewalk, towards safe haven. 

He just tried to bite him. And he thought the man's blood was delicious. _There were sooooo many things wrong with that._

Luckily, he made it to his apartment without further incidents. And he did the most logical thing one could do in that situation:

He locked himself in his room.

And he stayed there for three days...

* * *

When Ricky came along, and _killed a man_ for _him_ , Tinsley wasn't sure how to react once his sanity caught up with him. 

On one hand, he was grateful that Ricky cared enough for him to do it; on the other hand, the detective was concerned by the fact that he practically did it without a second thought.

But then again, he's a serial killer; he can't be mentally well. 

At the moment, Ricky was seated at the kitchen island across from him, smelling of soapy citruses. He was clean of any blood from his recent kill. 

Tinsley, however, was covered in it.

Blood stained his lips and teeth, most of it still splashed around his mouth, like an animal. 

He felt a little guilty, of course; the only reassurance was Ricky's promise of the man's criminal background. He wished he didn't need to feed in the first place. 

"You know... An animal might have worked..." He broke the thick silence, tapping the counter softly, not meeting his friend's/adversary ~~(not)~~ 's eyes. 

"How would you know?" Ricky asked softly, unsure of how to continue the conversation.

What was there to talk about without a bit of awkward tension? 

Tinsley shrugged, "Donno. It's blood all the same, right?"

"I guess..."

They lapsed into another silence. 

"What now?"

Tinsley finally met Ricky's gaze. It was fond; hesitant, unsure, and concerned, but mostly fond. "I guess I stay here, feeding off of rats or whatever."

"What about your work, detective?" 

He dropped his gaze again, deciding that picking at his nails was much more interesting. 

"I can't very well solve cases if I'm like this." Tinsley said. There was a certain pain to his words, as if the very thoughts, of abandoning all those people without giving them justice, were burning him. 

"Well, what if you learn to... To control it." Ricky shifted in his seat, "Like in all those cheesy vampire movies about love?"

Tinsley snorted. "Oh yeah, and whose the love interest?"

The serial killer paused, red tinted his tanned face. "I- uh, I don't know... Who do you think it would be?"

 _You_. "A hot dog maybe."

"Yeah... You're right." Ricky sighed, "Or your work, probably."

They smiled easily at each other. They'd figure it out, together.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this was kinda a mess; so I hope it was mostly enjoyable. 
> 
> : )


End file.
